Playing the Drum

In late October 2011, I asked Don to join me for fishing on Lake Evergreen. The day was cool and cloudy, but we wanted to get in one more trip before shutting down for winter.

We had good luck fishing that year, especially for fishing for crappies. I had located several areas along downed trees and back in coves. These areas were productive all season with various baits. My usual bait was a small jig with a wax worm attached, but I also fished with minnows. Because the bite of a crappie is so delicate, I purchased a Shimano ultra-light carbon fiber rod. It is thinner than a number 2 pencil. I fished with ultra-thin 4 lb. test fluorocarbon line and a Pflueger ultra-light President reel.

Earlier that spring I had special ordered some tiny jigs for crappie fishing. These jigs were only found on line. The jigs were tube jigs 1 inch in length. These puppies were small, but crappies like small baits.

To complete the rig, I used jig heads ranging in size from 1/64 oz. to 1/80 oz. I tried to buy these at Bass Pro Shops, but there were none that small in the fishing section. Fortunately I wandered into the fly fishing area and found a few. The rest I ordered on line. I even ordered some 1/124 oz.  These are so small they won’t sink.

The tubes came in many colors and all colors worked depending on conditions. Light colors worked well in the clear spring water, red and bright colors worked well when Evergreen became green in the summer. However, the best producing color in all conditions was purple.

For this trip, I purchased minnows. The bait shop was out of “crappie” minnows, which are the small ones. Fishing was slowing down and vendors were not carrying many baits. I purchased medium size minnows.

Why all the details? It is to let you know how light my tackle was that day. I was expecting to catch crappies that might weigh 12-14 oz.

Our first stop was along some downed trees on the main lake area. I thought we could jig there for a while before heading into a cove, where there was less wind. As usual, I fished off the bow and Don was in the back.

After jigging the minnow up and down for a few minutes, I got a strike. The strike was not hard, but I couldn’t move the fish up. I thought I might be snagged, but then the fish began to move away from the boat. Walleyes and catfish stay down when they are caught. I was sure it wasn’t a crappie and likely one of them. Evergreen holds the state record for hybrid walleyes. I thought I might have a trophy.

It circled back towards the boat and headed towards the back and the motor. I kept worrying it would snag around the motor or break the line. The whole time I thought about the masterful way I had seen Paul land the muskie on our first trip to Lake Shelbyville (See Almost Holiday). I tried to do what I remembered him doing.

The fish dove under the boat and I kept moving around the boat trying to keep the line clear of the gear in the boat. We made several trips around, with Don always scrambling to get out of the way as I let the fish decide which direction to go. He asked if he could help, but this was a one person task. With a u shaped rod, I kept tension on the fish but never pulled or tried to “horse” the fish. When your tackle is so under sized, your only hope is to play the fish until it tires and prevent it from wrapping you around a log or snapping your line.

Suddenly the fish turned and started to pull line against the drag on my tiny reel. It was headed out in the main lake towards the dam. The reel was whining against the drag, and with less than 100 yards of line, it wouldn’t be long before I reached the end.

I asked Don to switch places and to start the motor. I kept my line tight, but used the bent rod to absorb the force from the fish. 4 lbs. test cannot take much force before snapping. Fluorocarbon line is also brittle, so it doesn’t stretch much.

All of this passed through my mind, as Don struggled to get the motor started. He also didn’t have much experience with a tiller steer motor, so he was nervous about trying to follow the fish. (I had the same feeling driving that day at Lake Shelbyville).

Don rallied and we stayed within a resonable distance of the fish. There apparently was enough tension on the drag to tire the fish, and it eventually turned back to the downed trees. Don kept the motor running, as we approached the area where I first felt the strike. 

I felt a change in tension as the fish began to rise.  This was a dangerous time as my line was shortened and could not absorb much shock. Walleyes and catfish frequently make a quick dive when they see the light.  Many are lost right at the boat.  I wanted help so I told Don to get the net.

My net is collapsible, which makes it nice for storing, but also needs to be snapped into place in order to open and use. In an exciting moment, this becomes difficult and required some time to accomplish. Don came through and got it together. I still couldn’t see the fish, but expected a monster walleye.

What rose to the surface was wider than my net. It was too long to fit in either. Fortunately Don got most the head in the net and together we lifted the leviathan from the water. We didn’t know what it was, but it was heavy.

Fortunately the fish was very tired, as was I. I could barely lift it with both hands. Don dug my digital scale out of the rod locker, and we hung it on the hook. It flashed past 16 lbs., before the scale exceeded its limit. It was certainly more than 16 lbs., as I had to use all my strength to hold it. Don figured it was well over 20 lbs.

I asked Don to take a picture with my phone, but told him I could not hold the fish up. I sat on my boat seat, with the fish in my lap, as Don took the photo. I was covered in slime, but at least I was successful in getting the fish in. Without Don’s help, I would have certainly lost the fish.

I retuned the exhausted fish to the water. It lay on the surface for a few seconds, then dove to the depths. Don and I were cold and tired too, and decided to end our day. After dropping Don off, I returned home. My slime covered sweatshirt went into the garbage.

I sent the photo to Scott Richardson, who was, at that time, outdoor writer for the local paper. I asked his help in identifying the monster fish. Scott said the fish was a drum perch, the largest he had ever seen.  He wrote about it on November 3. 

I had caught drums (aka sheepshead) before; usually they weigh about one pound and grunt like a pig when in the boat. Apparently this drum was a female as they do not grunt. Drums are native to Illinois rivers and streams and are found in deeper water near the bottom.  They are a separate species and not related to perch or any other fish. Based on the size, she may have been one of the original fish trapped in the lake when Six Mile Creek was dammed to form Lake Evergreen in 1971. That would make her at least 40 years old. Drums are known to live even longer than that and can reach over 50 lbs.

I am no musician, but the day I played that drum, is the best performance I accomplished on the water.

We really did catch some

In spite of my brother's assumption that I cannot catch fish without my spouse, here are a few to debunk that comment.

Lake Michigan in March. What were we thinking? BTW those are coho salmon. We (Paul, Robert, and me) did this for two miserable days.

This was a largemouth on Lake Evergreen. 

This is a keeper hybrid sauger-walleye (saugeye) caught on Lake Evergreen. I just call them walleyes anymore.

My first (and so far only) muskie was caught with Don and Paul while fishing for bass on Don's boat

I caught many fish while fishing with Al off of Pine Island, FL. This red fish was the largest.

We always catch many huge smallmouth bass in Boulder Junction, WI.  This was an early one.

My first Wisconsin trip was written under Two Moon Bay. These are the reason we fished on the Willow Flowage (home of Two Moon Bay)

This is the smallie Paul tried to sneak out get in the early morning.

The day Connie caught her trophy channel cat, I caught one in a different area.

My first trout fishing trip to Wisconsin resulted in this one caught on the pink plastic worms we used in the Smokys. This was years before the one in my profile.

And then there is the one which will be detailed next week.

So , Tim, except for the catfish, Connie was not along for any of these.

Fishing with Connie

I had had many enjoyable and screwy times fishing, but the times with her are very special.

When I learned to fish while in college, I was addicted. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any place to fish except the ditch. There were no farm ponds near our farms. They were no lakes either. The only fishing areas were the Hennepin canal and the Green and Rock Rivers. Since I had no idea how to fish a river and the banks of the Green River were very steep, I decided to stay away. I tried the canal, but it was stagnant and smelled. It wasn’t much better than the ditch.

Then I discovered my uncle had quarry pit on his farm. This pit was stocked with largemouth bass.  I decided to try it and brought my future spouse with me. Connie had done some fishing as a kid, so I figured she knew how.

We borrowed a rod and reel for her. As we got to my uncle’s pit, I handed her a nightcrawler worm to put on her hook. After I cast I looked over to see the nightcrawler laying on a rock. Connie was trying to stab it with the hook. A fish hook is curved 270 degrees with a point that curves back in the loop.  I enjoyed watching this take place. Eventually she was successful and started to fish.

We didn’t do too well fishing, but we had a good time. The quarry pit wasn’t easy to fish as it had steep banks and few places to stand. We went back a few times, but decided it wasn’t too much fun.

As we planned our wedding, we talked of options for a honeymoon. Connie’s folks took a vacation trip most years, and often these would involve fishing. One place they stayed was in northwestern Wisconsin. The place was Boyd’s Mason Lake Resort.

This became our destination. We made a reservation for a week. We had no money as I was just finishing college. We had hoped to put together enough money to go by working part time. We also hoped to get some money at our wedding.

Neither of the money things worked out. We had to cancel our plans and hope for a honeymoon sometime later. This actually was a fortunate thing.

With the military draft hanging over my head, I had only a temporary job where I had worked during summer breaks. Because we stayed home, I received a call to interview for a teaching job. Through luck and timing, I was hired to teach on the Friday before school began. Thus began over thirty years in education.  Had we been in Wisconsin that would not have happened.

After we were married Connie bought me my first spinning rod and reel for Christmas. This was a perfect gift and I kept it for many years. Unfortunately I had almost no time to fish. First year teachers are unbelievably busy. My salary was so low, we couldn’t afford anything. I worked every week-end for any part-time job I could find.

We also had moved to Albany on the Mississippi River. The Mississippi is a scary place for novice. It is the superhighway for water traffic. Barges traveling on the Mississippi are pushed in triple lengths greater than a football field. They move forward, but don’t turn or stop for anyone. Imagine standing along an interstate highways and trying to cast a fishing rod. That is how I felt about fishing the Mississippi.

Ely, MN

After a year of marriage, we put together a plan to go on a fishing trip. My former roommate’s close friend, nicknamed Slim, was an avid fisherman. I had met him on our Coleta trout trips and we got along quite well. He was also married, and his wife was originally from Ely, MN. All of her family still lived there.

Ely is at the entrance to the Boundary Waters.  These lakes border the US and Canada and are world famous for fishing. There are restrictions in the Boundary Waters and boats motors are not allowed with few exceptions. Canoes are the mode of traversing the Boundary Waters. Camping is part of the experience.

However, Ely has many other lakes which are not so restricted. It also had many resorts that provide fishing opportunities. We planned to stay at one and fish with a guide. We also planned to fish with Slim’s in-laws for a few days.

It takes “forever” to drive to Ely.

We stayed in a nice cabin on a lake. Included with our stay was a guided trip, which was to include a shore lunch. We had access to a dock, but we didn’t rent a boat. Neither of us had any idea how to drive a boat.

The day with the guide was wonderful. Slim and his wife joined us for the day. We caught walleyes, and northern pike. 

I was never fond of fish. It was almost a requirement for Friday dinner, and we never had fresh fish. On our guided trip, we experienced our first shore lunch. After building a fire next to a large boulder, our guide filleted our morning catch. He cooked them over the fire.The shore lunch fish was absolutely delicious. Both of us ate until we were full.

That evening, we walked down to the dock and Connie threw in a line. After a few minutes, Connie’s reel began to take out line. She grabbed it and tried to set the hook. The line kept going. She pulled and couldn’t turn the fish. We saw it roll and then dive. It was a monster. As it dove, her line snapped with a crack.

The next day we joined Slim’s wife’s family for fishing in a “secret” lake. This lake was privately owned and way off the regular roads around Ely.

We had to walk uphill a long distance before reaching the lake. In addition to fishing equipment we were carrying small boat motors. By the time we arrived, we were exhausted. Fortunately the family had access to a couple of boats that were kept at the lake. Keeping the lake secret proved a great benefit to us. Connie caught a smallmouth on her first cast. This was followed by many others. It seemed the smallies wanted everything we had. This was the one time I think she really enjoyed fishing.

We followed with another shore lunch and still had many fish to bring home. Fresh caught smallies are delicious.

Our final day, I went out with Slim’s relatives, and Connie stayed in. We were fishing Lake Ely which borders the town proper. It also serves as Ely’s airport, and there were several float planes docked by town. While we were out several landed and took off from the lake.

On this trip I was introduced to the concept of “walleye chop”. This is the term locals use to describe miserable cold windy weather that supposedly makes walleyes want to bite. It is definitely “choppy”, and cold. I didn’t have any sea legs and was miserable. I don’t recall catching anything but cold.

As the years were taken up with the army, children, and working every week-end, we never fished. When we relocated to Bloomington, I finally had some time. Most of my fishing was alone or with my fellow principals, although Connie did join me for some before work fishing.

After I retired and bought a boat, Connie agreed to fish with me. Of course, her real interest was relaxing and reading a book. This she often did while we were fishing. Occasionally she would bring a chartreuse green umbrella to keep the sun off. I was hoping none of my friends would see me fishing with a chartreuse umbrella in the boat.

In spite of her lack of interest, she would pick up an throw out a line if we were stopped. She also was good at fishing and caught some fish.

Fishing with Granddaughters

There is nothing to compare with a fishing trip involving granddaughters. Each has traveled with Grandpa on his boat. Most often these are big family affairs with Nana spending her time helping the girls with what ever needs arise.

This allows their parents to actually fish, enjoy the scenery, or hold hands.

Each granddaughter has approached fishing differently. It truly reflects their personality. All of them wanted to ride and drive the boat, but fishing was not their primary function.

Rachel is Miss Curious. “Why are you doing that , Grandpa?” However, she is the most serious about catching a fish. After all catching a fish is the whole point, Right Don? Rachel can also cast fairly well. She practiced off her deck with a Lighting McQueen fishing pole I bought her. It already had a fish (artificial) attached.

Before I took any of my girls out, I pre-fished the lake. Competitive fishermen do this all this time. I do it to avoid hearing “I’m bored”. Bass champion Kevin Van Dam faces less pressure to produce that me.

So on every trip I located a spot where bluegills were active. Generally it isn’t a problem finding them. Usually I try to avoid these “bait stealers”, but kids need some action. They aren’t fussy about species, just whether they catch a fish.

Preparing for one of these trips takes more time than packing for a covered wagon journey on the Oregon Trail.  There are the required clothes. These are Grandpa’s responsibility, a Bass Pro fishing hat and a life jacket.

The optional clothes are the parents’ responsibility.

We need jackets, short, jeans, hooded sweatshirts, accompanied by a parasol,  in case there is too much sun. There are special sunscreens for the kids, baby wipes, a stroller, and camping trailer. (just kidding)

The strangest piece of equipment we packed was a kid sized plastic toilet. I recall Rachel actually using it.

We pack enough food to march across Alps. Hannibal carried fewer supplies and he had elephants! There are Cheetos, Doritos, pretzels, and sandwiches for the one who only eats jelly, some for the one who only eats peanut butter, potato chips, string cheese, juice packs, water bottles, etc. etc. etc. We carry apple slices, raisins, and grapes too. They are not to eat, but just in case Family Services checks the boat, we can say they are for the kids. When they leave my boat looks like there was a food fight at Frito Lay’s employee cafeteria.

My boat has a listed capacity of 6, but that is for adults. If it was for kids, the capacity would be two and one of them would have to drive.

As I said each has their own personality. Emily now cries when she catches a fish. It interrupts her eating. She doesn’t want to touch anything that isn’t died taco orange. Unfortunately I don’t know how to catch fish that color.

Sabrina is also Miss Curious, except she wants nothing to do with casting a fishing pole. For the all the shells, bugs, and creepy critters she collects at the salt marsh near her home, she won’t touch an earthworm.

She was willing to “pet” the small catfish I caught for her at Dawson Lake. To keep her from getting “horned” and becoming so traumatized to ever fish again, I held the fish for the petting. You can see its forked tails under my hand. Her sister, Veronica, looked on. She was too young to hold a pole, but she could sure eats snacks.

Before showing Sabrina, how we catch fish in the Midwest, her mother decided I needed to learn about fishing in New York. Now Manhattan is an island. Rivers (estuaries actually) on three sides, you have heard of the famous Hudson River, East River, and less famous Harlem River. There is also this ocean( Atlantic Ocean) on the south (down town) side. Water is everywhere. Where do we fish? ….In Central Park.

Fishing in Bloomington or Texas...hook boat to truck, drive to lake. Fishing in New York City...take subway A to 168th, board M2 bus to 110th, walk to Central Park, rent pole, and bait(corn). Seriously, her pole was a fiberglass rod with 6 ft. of line tied to the tip and a hook with no weight. The only bait we were allowed to use was corn. (Next time Grandpa is smuggling in a container of wax worms).

Speaking of baiting a hook, none of them will. I have to bait all their hooks, cast for everyone except Rachel, and then reel it in when they catch a fish., hold the fish while we take a picture, take it off the hook and then throw it back. No wonder they need all those snacks, they are exhausted after watching me catch one fish!

The Texas  lake we usually fished almost completely disappeared over the past few years. The long Texas drought turned the 6000 acre Lake Medina into the 300 acre Medina Mud Puddle.  I stopped taking my boat and we stopped fishing.

Then something dramatic happened last spring. In one year the torrential rains over south Texas filled it ( and every  creek and small depression), with water . It is currently overflowing the spillway.

So the boat may return to Texas. We will go out again, wearing new fishing hats, bigger life vests, and carrying a small warehouse full of Lay’s products. Maybe the New York girls will join us. "We're gonna need a bigger boat".

We may not catch any, but as I always say, “It isn’t about the fishing”

A sad day and a happy day

It’s sad because something has ended. My very close friend, Don, was my inspiration to buy a fishing boat. He always shared the operation of his boat. He always made me feel welcome to use his boat at any time (except for that first week when he was in Oregon see “Don buys a boat”). I have often written about Don’s boat as a disaster, but it was always an enjoyable experience. Many were less than successful, but none of them were anything less than fun. Being with Don made any fishing trip the highlight of the day or week.

Fishing with Don isn’t ending. We had several trips already this spring and summer. However, most of them were shake down trips. This is the annual practice of bringing a buddy to help discover what you screwed up while trying to work on your boat to prepare for fishing season. The buddy can run the kanewter valve while you try to repair the bat stretcher. There was always something not functioning correctly and this was often because we are the furthest thing from competent mechanics since the invention of a floating log raft.

This spring the shakedowns were to make sure Don’s boat was functioning safely so he might sell it to someone and they would not die using his boat. Why multiple shake downs trips? Let’s just leave that to your imaginations. If you can’t imagine anything see any of the posts “Adventures in Don’s, Rick's, or Paul’s boats”

Why the “happy day”? The old adage is the happiest days in a fisherman’s life are the day he buys a boat and the day he sells it. Boats are a pain in the ass. Something is always breaking. No matter how careful you may be some part works loose, breaks, needs replacement etc.  In the 13 years I have owned my boat I have replaced the trolling motor, the trolling motor lift rope (3 times), the fish locator, locator transducer ( twice), 2 anchors, four anchor ropes, both batteries (3 times), the winch strap, the trailer hitch, the trailer tires, the trailer lights (twice), the fuel tank, the fuel connectors, the wheel bearings (twice), rewired the running lights,etc., etc, etc. There is almost no paint left on the sides and there are more dents than found on a Tobin's Pizza delivery car.

With all of us owning some type of watercraft, Don simply wasn’t using his much. He decided it was too big an investment to keep in his garage to store lawn chairs in the winter. (He really does that. One winter I offered to let him keep it in my garage while we were in Texas, so his truck wouldn’t have to sit out. He declined because he had no other place to store his lawn furniture.)  

So he put it on the market this spring. By the way, “On the market” for a guy from Dupo means he put a For Sale sign on it and set it in his yard. More precisely, since the town of Normal prohibits putting something for sale in your yard, Don pulled it out in his driveway whenever anyone in the neighborhood was having a garage sale. I don’t believe he helped pay for the neighbor’s garage sale ad, but he isn’t cheap. He put up a regular "store bought" sign, not the typical southern Illinois “4Sell” version written in crayon on a pizza box.

After multiple weeks of garage sale advertising, he found a buyer in Kentucky! Don’t ask me to explain that, but I suppose there is some red neck communications pipeline (like the internet, but without typing, or words)

So for Don it is a happy day and for me a sad one.

Thanks buddy for including me in your happy days

Weather might be the problem

Don suggested that we might have a problem with weather. If you think about it, we all complain about it. Perhaps we should place our lack of success on the weather, you know, like politicians blame each other.

Paul and I went fishing at Boulder Junction in September. This was years before Paul met Neal. This was our second trip that year. During our first trip in June, we arrived in a thunderstorm. Paul had booked a cabin on a lake. There was no office, and the owner had told Paul to go into a specific cabin as the cabins were unlocked. It was raining so hard we couldn’t read the numbers on the cabins. Paul’s boat cover filled so deep with rainwater, we were afraid it might break the cover. I got out to walk the area to try and find where we to stay, while he tried to get the rainwater off of the cover by driving back and forth and slamming on the brakes. After I found the cabin, I told Paul “let’s stay someplace else”. It was somewhat better than the “Shangi-La” and several notches below “Almost Holiday”. We decided to stay in town, at a hotel near a bar.

By the time we arrived at the hotel, the weather cleared and it was beautiful. We went out right away had a great day of fishing.  We had great success the next day and tried several lakes. The fishing was terrific everywhere. We even had a muskie follow one of Paul’s lures all the way to the boat.

We decided we had to return in the fall. This is why we were back in September.  Paul booked us in the hotel. We arrived early enough to go fishing that evening. We had great fishing and great weather. The next day we were formally introduced to the vagaries of upper Wisconsin weather.

The day started with a hearty breakfast. This was a big mistake for me. As I have gotten older, I occasionally forget that my stomach can’t take all of that food. It was cool that morning, so we dressed in bad weather gear to keep warm.

By the time we arrived at the lake, my insides were in terrible stress. Needless to say, I don’t know what a bear does in the woods, but I know what I did.

As we worked our way out the narrow channel from the dock, the wind picked up. Paul was driving the boat, so he headed for shelter from the wind behind an island. As we approached the island, it began to sprinkle.

As we stopped to fish, it began to sleet. We worked around the back of the island, and  I could see back where we had entered. Paul was facing the opposite way. I started to laugh. Paul asked “Why are you laughing?” I told him to turn around.

The entrance to the lake was not visible. Snow was falling so hard, one could not see ten feet. By the way, we had not had one strike. We decided continuing was unwise and headed back to the dock, moving slowly in the heavy snow.

To wait out the weather, we decided to go in to the Boulder Beer Bar. We had lunch and a few beers. There were some other men there and they were drinking a lot.

After an hour the other men had the bartender fill a couple of growlers with beer from the tap and then they left. We asked where they were taking so much beer. The bartender said they were going fishing. Paul and I decided driving with those guys on the road was unwise. Also we thought the weather was still too bad, so we stayed at the bar. More beer was needed to wash down the bar food (You know, deep fried everything). We then returned to the hotel for a nap.

By evening, the weather cleared. We decided to go back out at a different lake. By the time we got to the lake, Paul was struck with my same ailment from the morning and he also did an impression of a bear in the woods.

Another hour on the lake produced not one bite. It had to be the weather, right?

And on a nice day....

One warm day in January, Paul said “They are catching muskies down below the dam at Lake Shelbyville. We always enjoyed the lake so we decided to drive down for a day trip. Along the way we stopped for lunch just south of where we usually turned off to visit Almost Holiday. We were heading south towards the dam.

As we were waiting to be served, several people came into the restaurant. They described how they had seen a tornado pass just south of our location. Imagine if we hadn’t stopped for lunch?

We decided to continue on, as the weather had cleared.

We didn’t hook a single muskie.

I returned home to find that my dog, Rhett, had tripped Connie while she was walking him. I had trained him to walk on the left, and he was on her right, tried to get to her left and wrapped his lease around her legs. She tore her rotator cuff and ended up with shoulder surgery. She would never be able to pitch in the majors.

She didn't  think I was funny when I said this. 

I should have stayed home.

This is the last post until July 31.

They call it Evergreen

We most often fish Lake Evergreen. It was built in the 70’s before I moved to the area. However, old timers like Don and Paul recall when it was built. I don’t know why it was named Evergreen, but I have a hypothesis.

Lake Evergreen has become the source of much loss and some downright tragic events. It is the final resting place of two of my anchors, one of my rod and reels, numerous hats, more fishing lures, jigs, and fishing line than I can ever summarize.

Unfortunately it also claimed some lives. I don’t wish to make light of the loss or offend any family, but I don’t believe the number of tragedies is caused by the design of the lake.

A family rented a canoe and went out for ride. The Dad put life vests on his kids, but didn’t wear one himself. When one of the kids fell in, he dove in to save them. He didn’t know how to swim. The kid was fine, the Dad was not. The county still rents canoes and boats, but few adults wear a life jacket.

A group of kids where drinking and driving fast one winter night. They probably had music playing loudly as they passed over several warning strips and signs that the road ended ahead. It ended in the lake and so did they. All of them drown except for one girl. She crawled from the lake and found refuge in a 50 gallon garbage can a quarter of a mile from the lake.  This prompted the county to put up flashing warning signs.

A young man, one of my former students, parked his car on the ramp. He was found in the car the next morning. The county took out part of the road and forced people to drive around the barrier to get to the ramp.

A guy rolled his car into the lake. He left town. Connie and I came upon the roof of his car when launching the next day. Unfortunately we didn’t recognize it as a car roof, because it appeared to be an orange saucer just under the surface. Since the fish biologists use orange markers for habitat research areas, I assumed it was theirs. Someone else called it in. Apparently the owner was trying to ditch the car, possibly from illegal activity. He was found in another state.

An elderly woman was looking for Interstate 39 at night. She became confused where she was. She ended up driving over the warning strips, past the warning signs,  around the barrier, around the part of the road removed by the county and into the lake. The county put of flashing signs to mark the direction to I39, removed more of the road, rerouted the road to the ramp through the parking lot, and removed about 10 parking spaces. They didn’t replace any parking.

A guy driving at night on the other side of the lake drove off the curve, almost hit the pumping station and drove into the lake. He, of course, drown. Since this was not at the ramp modified so many times, the county didn’t know what to do. I have a feeling they will add some more barriers this spring or summer.

I noted that there is a crop dusting business that frequently flies over the lake. Obviously the pilots are at risk. I suggested the county place a dome over the lake and place an armed guard at every possible access point. People may be killed, but it won’t be in the lake. We had a saying when I was an engineer, “Nothing is fool proof, because fools find ingenious ways to get hurt” Stay tuned.

My hypothesis why it is called Evergreen? It was named after the final resting place of Adlai Stevenson, Evergreen Cemetery in Bloomington.